Today was a case of "should have gone yesterday." My dad and I decided early in the week that if the weather looked decent, we'd make a run at a few trout. Well, the weather looked decent, but in actuality was merely not terrible. The sun hid all day and temperature stayed in the low 30s. Not cold enough to chase you off the water, but cold enough to have you looking for a patch of sunlight. The previous few days had sun and 40s, so the sudden cold spell had an effect on the fish and it was tough to find any real action. Still, I'm glad we went. Alway good to fish with my dad and he had a new fly rod (switch rod) to try out.

We hit a money spot to start and dad lined up in the pocket with his new 11 ft 7 wt TFO switch rod. He bought the rod to chase steelhead on the clearwater, and I think he's happy with the results. Moments into his day he brought this great redside to hand and he rod had that factory stink off of it.

It took me a lot longer to get going. As expected with a LONG layoff with regard to trout...I was pretty rusty. Fortunatley the rust didn't show itself in the usual manner, in other words I wasn't covered in tippet with a fly stuck in the back of my hat and split shot dents in my forehead. Mostly, I had trouble focussing. I told my dad that I never did feel like I was properly "zoned in" to nymping. I went through the motions, flipped, mended, high sticked, naked and with indicators but overall I knew the sixth sense was missing. It didn't help that I fount a massive leak in my waders and basically fished one day with my left foot in the river. That was the only part of the day that ranked as "not pleasant."

After an hour or so I stumbled across a few trout dumb enough to be fooled by imperfect drifts, and hungry enough to make the indicator move like something was chasing it...I landed a few, took some pictures and marveled at their color. I didn't really feel like I deserved the fish, I felt more like they found me. Later in the day I added a venerable whitey to the tally...another gift from the fish gods because at the time I swear I was watching a line of foam float downriver a good 10 feet away from my indicator.

It was a beautiful, cold day. Always great to fish with my dad but I spent most of the time on the river on my own, a few hundred yards away from dad. I fished, but mostly I just enjoyed being on the river waving a stick. That sounds simple and lacks the true poetry of the moment, but its true. Most fly fisherman will tell you they don't care if they catch fish, or how many fish they catch or how big they are...some days they mean it.